


Unspoken

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Marriage (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Angst, Armageddon, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-War, St James's Park (Good Omens), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: He strode up to him and Aziraphale took a step back. For each step Aziraphale took back, Crowley took one forward until he had Aziraphale right up against a bookcase. His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that spoke of things that neither of them had ever spoke of before. This. Flesh on flesh.“Just sssay it, angel.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to this interview of Michael and David and I loved what Michael said. This inspired me. 
> 
> Michael Sheen Radio 4 Interview [May 2019] : 
> 
> "Also the other favourite moments for me were the moments where the sort of subtext of their relationship comes as close to the surface as it was allowed to get. Subtext of whatever kind of love there might be between them or whatever bond there is between them that is unspoken and both of them would deny it but there are moments where it comes sort of thrillingly close to the surface and being able to play those scenes together I really enjoyed it. There's a scene in the bandstand where it gets really close to the surface and that was a lovely scene to play." 
> 
> So I attempted to do my own version of the Good Omens sequel - 668: The Neighbour of the Beast. Please, I'm not Terry and Neil, but I tried. It's the most words I have ever written for a fic. Go easy on me.

Don’t say it. No. Don’t speak it out loud. The words will be captured and it will sink into my bones. I will never let it go. So please – I beg this of you – don’t let the dam burst.

________

It comes rushing up into his throat and he fights to swallow it down. He eats and eats then drinks. Don’t let it come up. It rises on occasion, just every so often through the millennia that he and Crowley have been together on this Earth. It threatens itself to be said, but Aziraphale cannot let it. He shuts his mouth and dances this dance, he knows the steps and he never goes too far. Sometimes when he is alone he likes to play the scene back and wonder what would happen if he could say what he wanted. He would deny and never ever name it. Here in these walls of his bookshop he allows his mind to conjure and tear him apart. He knows. He knows the consequences all too well. He is a fearful angel. Heaven’s wrath would destroy Crowley so he leaves it like this. St James Park in 1862, he walks away. He will not let it rule him, words are said. The anger filling him up and choking him. He stupidly displayed his anger, his fear of losing Crowley. What danger they would be in if Crowley had known just how much he cared? 

He dared not think of it. 

“Fraterising,” Crowley had spat. 

“Well whatever you wish to call it,” he retaliated in spite. 

Quiet. 

It comes to the surface at the church and that is when he had to put a stop to it. The raging fire and sick want, scorching his veins. He wanted. Oh God, he wanted so badly. His entire being shook with it. To want is to rip open all your vulnerabilities, to live in this chaotic state where the want cannot be shown. It sits and grows in silence and it is vile to its host, eats away at you as long as you keep it inside. It felt like rot. He was ruined and desperate. It was powerful. He felt it then as Crowley handed him the books. Flashes. Flashes of something. Whatever kind of love or whatever kind of bond he had with Crowley was there pulsing inside his chest. Glowing in its splendour and yet torturing him at the same time. Shove it down, he thought, as he got into Crowley’s new Bentley that drove him to the bookshop. He had missed Crowley for a century when he had fallen asleep after their fight. 

To be near him, smell his scent that startled Aziraphale, he became dizzy with it, waves of desires crashing into him with a force. It had been too long without him. He noted the clean line of Crowley’s jacket, cut to perfection over his slim shoulders. He looked exquisite in his outfit, fedora on his head probably to make some kind of statement (he always did) and his glasses shielded those golden lake eyes that Aziraphale wished he could see. He bit his nails into the meat of his palm. No, he scolded himself, don’t lean in. Don’t come too close. The flood lights beamed on and off his angular face and Aziraphale was breathless with the realisation that this creature was so undeniably beautiful. Beautiful not just for figure and features, but beautiful in his kindness towards Aziraphale, an angel. Beautiful because of his willingness to save and to help. His soul was beautiful. 

Aziraphale didn’t know if demons had souls and whatever Crowley was or wasn’t, he knew that he definitely wasn’t a very good demon. He thought of all the years Crowley had risked his life for him. In the Bastille something could have gone terribly wrong. He could have been discorporated or Crowley could have been destroyed for unchaining him. They had both put their lives in danger for this…thing between them. It was a friendship, wasn’t it? He had been the demon’s companion since the first rainfall in Eden when he sheltered him with his wing. But there was also more. More than a friendship and he knew that he would deny it and if he ever had the courage and will to ask, Crowley would deny it, too. 

Whatever this damn thing was burning now inside of him it had to be snuffed out, the embers had to die. 

Again it happens in 1967. He tried. Bless him, he tried. 

They were in the Bentley in an illuminated street full of clubs and adult stores that Aziraphale wanted to ignore. All around him was Crowley. Everything was Crowley. 

“Shall I drop you anywhere?” 

Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line, looking straight ahead of him to make sure he could fight the words out. The words that needed to be said, not the words he craved to say. He had to do this. 

“No. Thank you.” 

He looked sideways and he could see the quiver in Crowley’s bottom lip. His heart squeezed tightly in pain. He tried with all his might not to. There it was, the water filling him up, wanting to spill. (Don't unscrew the cap) 

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could…I don’t know…” Oh how much did he wish they could have this, how long before this will happen? To be free, to be able to touch him. “Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.” 

Soon. Just wait for me. We can get there. Please. We can be together. Hold on. 

Aziraphale hoped and prayed that as he said this that Crowley would understand as he always understood him. He couldn’t say it fully, he couldn’t let his heart fall onto his sleeve. This was all he could give him for now and he hoped it was enough. He could give Crowley this. Crowley though did understand, but he was insistent. A drive wouldn’t hurt anyone. Crowley clutched the tartan flask, hoping beyond all reason. 

“I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you wanna go.” 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and stared past the dark tint of his glasses. 

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.” 

Now they were here in the 21st century. 

They always sit next to each other. Never touching. The most they had touched is when Crowley pressed him against the wall at the Tadfield Manor when they were trying to find the lost Anti-Christ.

Aziraphale thinks back. He's forever looking at the past. Careful, so careful. 

They had successfully fooled Heaven and Hell to leave them alone. Aziraphale felt safe. He breathed a breath of fresh air as they sat on the park bench. The war was over and perhaps, just maybe the war inside himself was over. He could finally tell Crowley how he felt. It had been lying in the darkness, gathering cobwebs all this time. Aziraphale invited him to lunch at the Ritz, just like he promised fifty-two years ago. They sat there drinking champagne and toasting to the World. After that it was merely a year doing the things they usually do without the worry of their respective head offices. When Crowley heard about this pandemic that was going around he immediately knew that it was the forces of Hell that was mad and decided to punish the humans for Crowley’s disobedience and not winning the War. He was at home that evening practising social distancing to create an example for the mortals to follow so they wouldn’t get themselves killed. What was the point of saving the World if humans were just gonna bite the dust and there would be none left? Aziraphale called him that evening telling him about all sorts of cake he was baking at his bookshop. Crowley suggested he go to his place. 

This reminded Aziraphale of the bandstand when Crowley asked him to go off with him. And him in the street asking him to go to Alpha Centauri with him. He also thought of them after their encounter with Satan at the Airbase sitting on a bench again drinking expensive champagne. Crowley had looked at him so desperately, his feelings showing almost terrifyingly at the surface. 

“You could stay at my place if you’d like?”   
Aziraphale replied, “I don’t think my side would like that.” 

They were on their own side. 

On the phone Aziraphale became afraid again. So many years of pushing it down and telling himself he had to keep silent.   
“I could hunker down at your place, slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle, a case of…something drinkable.”   
He could hear so clearly how much he wanted Aziraphale to say yes. He wanted just as much as the angel and that made it even more unbearable. 

“I..I..I…I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules. Out of the question!” Aziraphale tightened his lips again and pressed all his words into a dark corner within himself. The effort made his entire body shake. His voice came out wobbly and tinged in sadness. “I will see you when this is over?” 

The demon sighed on the other end. “Right. Well, I’m setting the alarm clock for July. Goodnight, angel.”   
The line went dead in his ear.   
Crowley always slept longer, incredibly long, when they had a fight. He did so after their fight at the St James Park and he only saw him again when he was in trouble. Crowley came for him and Aziraphale forced him away. He panicked.   
Not anymore. He couldn’t do that to Crowley. 

So here it is…the ending. Or the new beginning.

A New World 

They sat in the bookshop. Crowley on the couch and Aziraphale on his chair by his desk. They were drinking as per usual. Nothing much had changed, yet everything did. Adam had created a new world and Crowley and Aziraphale were free from answering to their head offices in Heaven and Hell. The year 2021 had started off fairly well, Aziraphale had asked Crowley to have a picnic and they ate the cake that Aziraphale had made during lockdown (which still kept their freshness and softness because Aziraphale couldn’t see it any other way) and it had been a bright sunny day. 

Crowley was still questioning about the fact that he knew Hell had something to do with the outbreak of the virus. Aziraphale told him while nursing a full glass of merlowe in his hands that there was no use in worrying about that now. 

“But aren’t you at least a little bit curious? They could be planning something. Something big.”   
“What are you going to do? Barge into Hell and demand to know what they are doing. Don’t be ridiculous.”   
“Well, I could try and get into contact with them. Freelance demon, still doing my job.” 

“Crowley, I think we have established that you’re not a very good demon.”   
“And you’re some angel,” Crowley interjected.   
“I have accepted that I don’t do what is expected of me, but I am still a holy being.”   
“Shoving your face with cake and wine? Holy, yes.”   
“Oh shush. You’re one to talk.”   
“You know that I am kind. What’s the point in denying it anymore these days?”   
Aziraphale flushed, thinking about that moment when he got pushed against the wall after calling Crowley kind. Guess that wasn’t happening again. He took a long sip of his drink. 

“Never mind that. I don’t see the point in worrying about Heaven and Hell anymore.”   
“Angel, you always worry. You’re filled with worry.”   
Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line. “That may be so, but I can’t keep worrying about us all the time. I thought we were safe, Crowley." 

His yellow eyes gleamed in wonder. “You said us.”   
“Yes. So?”   
“You never say us. Took you a long time to realise we’re on the same side.”   
“Well, now I know. It’s us, isn’t it?”   
Aziraphale felt his breath come out faster. These blasted corporations. He remembered his promise to himself. Shut it up, close the door. Too close. He poured more wine into his glass and tried to ignore the way Crowley was looking at him.   
“Should I bake some cupcakes for lunch? I just need to miracle more flour.”   
“Angel.”

The way he said his pet name made Aziraphale shiver. The depth of it, the way the tone changed. Feelings. So many feelings. He was sick with it. 

Despite himself he looked at Crowley and saw the blatant look in his eyes that were swarming with 6001 years of love in them. He swallowed down the question he wanted to ask. Did he? Could he? After all this time, was it possible they could be together? But he was so afraid. Crowley was right. Heaven and Hell could still be planning their revenge on them. It wasn’t safe. 

“Cupcakes? I asked about cupcakes. What do you think?” 

“I don’t care about cupcakes! Aziraphale, are you not even going to…”   
“To what Crowley?”   
“You know.”   
Aziraphale closed his eyes and tightened his hand on his glass. “I can’t cope with this while I’m drunk.”   
“One day you’re gonna have to admit it.”   
His voice was so soft, it pained him.   
“You know I can’t,” he said.   
“Why not?” Crowley pulled himself out of his seat. His limbs flailing everywhere.   
“You KNOW why. We are not discussing this right now.”   
“Then when?”   
Crowley stumbled towards him and before Aziraphale could react, the demon was in front of him. His hair had grown out a little during lockdown and he had kept it that way. It stopped just before his shoulders and it was straight, tied back with a black hairband. Aziraphale didn’t need to breathe, but his lungs had gotten used to breathing and it burned now where he struggled to catch his breath. He could smell Crowley’s scent, it warmed him and excited him. Crowley was right there. He could reach out and touch him. He held back though and waited for Crowley to move. Fast. This was going too fast. Too far. The demon came to touch Aziraphale’s face and then suddenly his lips touched his. It was soft just like he imagined it would be. It took everything inside him not to moan at the erupting pleasure of it. Just a little taste and his insides were exploding. It was overwhelming finally being able to get what you wanted for a millennia. 

Crowley snaked his hands around Aziraphale’s head and threaded his slim fingers into the cloud-like hair. Aziraphale pressed closer to him, just as eager to touch and hold. His hands on their own accord gripped at the demon’s shoulders. He leaned up into him and Crowley let out a loud gasp. The sound sank heat into his body and made him delirious. He got up from his seat, miracled away the glass to the table and let himself be kissed by him. He sucked at his lips, nibbling at that bottom lip that he had been eyeing for centuries. A moan escaped Crowley’s mouth. That snapped Aziraphale out it. He fled back into the seat with a frightful force. He was panting and he felt his heart hammering so fast he had to miracle it steady.   
“Crowley.” 

His voice sounded different. It sounded completely wrecked and when Crowley answered he could tell the kiss affected Crowley the same way. 

“Aziraphale,” he breathed.   
There was something so precious about all this, Aziraphale thought a bit later when Crowley had left after Aziraphale had said never again and slinked away, there was a real chance they could be something. He had kissed him. That was enough. It was enough for now. 

*

Crowley had faced Hell and Heaven. He had overcome all torment and saved the entire World! He had battled and fought for many years. Nothing was worse, not even Armageddon and losing the Anti-Christ (which was a cock up that fundamentally left him a bit scarred. He did try to do his job properly at least) but nothing was worse than kissing Aziraphale. Actually no. That part was actually the best bloody experience in his entire existence. Kissing Aziraphale was better than wine, better than walks in the park and fancy new trinkets he could put in his flat in Mayfair. Better than lunches where he could watch Aziraphale eat, better than the stars he created. Better than…better than. Bless! It was better than his own existence because kissing Aziraphale was like coming home after being on a holiday that wasn’t really good and there was no running water or heating at the hotel for three days. Finally holding him was like discovering you were a stranger in the world and then finding a place you feel accepted. Being with Aziraphale like that was like being cold all your life and then heated by a simple touch or word. 

Crowley was in love. Crowley was down in the deep sea by the Kraken in love! Transcendentally and unapologetically, hopelessly in love with Aziraphale. 

And the worst thing in this whole damn universe is having him reject him and tell him it was better if he went home. This wasn’t the cold dark trenches of Hell, or the weird emptiness of Heaven. This was something that ate at his soul and made him feel alone. He thought he had gotten better. Slowed down. He thought Aziraphale was speeding up to his speed or at least Crowley was close to his pace. He invited him out more times last month than Crowley did over the years. Still he pushed him away. Crowley walked to his Bentley and sat idly in the car. He grumbled some more and decided to put on some music. He chose some Velvet Underground, but the tape changed as it did to the Best of Queen. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy began playing and he nearly broke down in tears. That song reminded him of Aziraphale almost as much as Somebody To Love did. 

“For fuck’s sake!” Crowley groaned, wiping furiously at his eyes.   
“Why so glum, Crowley,” a voice said.   
He whipped his head to look out of the window but there was no one around him. He glared at the tape.   
“Who’s there?” he asked.   
The voice responded sounding like Freddie Mercury. “It’s Lord Hastur, Duke of Hell. You remember me, don’t you?” There was a taunting feel to his words and it made Crowley livid.   
“What do you want?” Crowley sneered, getting ready to pull the tape.   
“I just thought I’d let you know that you and your little angel friend won’t be free for very much longer. It is happening again as we always said it would. The End Days are here. The virus was just the start. You didn’t think that you could live peacefully after what you did? Your punishment is coming! Six days. Six days and it will all be over.” He heard heavy laughter from the other end.   
“Six? And then what?”   
“The Last War. We have teamed up with Heaven for this and trust me when I say this Crowley, that you and humanity will not stand a chance.”   
Queen restarted and Crowley felt his stomach drop. No. No. No. No. Not now! He had just began something with Aziraphale. He had kissed him back and he could have persuaded him into…oh what was the point? It was all fucked now. He grinded his teeth and jumped out of the Bentley and back towards the bookshop. He strode in to find Aziraphale tidying his books. He only did this the normal way when he was thinking. He longed to ask him about the kiss but that wasn’t important now.   
“Crowley? What are you doing back here?”   
“This isn’t about that. This is serious. I was right, Heaven and Hell are planning a War on Humanity. It starts in six days. I don’t know what to do. You’ve got to help me.”   
“Of course. Whatever you need.” 

*

In Oxford, the Young family were just about to have lunch. Mrs Young placed a steaming bowl of vegetables, that she knew Adam would refuse to eat, with a plate of roasted pork with apple sauce. She told her husband to call in their son from the backyard. Adam was playing with Dog teaching him how to wrestle with the squirrels. Just as Mr Young called for him, the phone rang. He knew Mrs Young was busy in the kitchen so he picked up the call. 

“Young residence.”   
“Hullo, this is Azira. You remember me from last year? I was the one who sent you all those baked goods.” 

“Yes! Of course. What can I do for you, Mr Fell?”   
“I was wondering if I could speak to Adam, please. It’s fairly urgent.”   
“Sure. You called just in time. We were just about to have lunch.”   
“Oh do enjoy that!”   
Mr Young gave the phone to Adam.   
“Hello. It’s Adam.”   
“Hullo Adam. It’s the angel. Aziraphale. Yes, so we have heard that Heaven and Hell are going to destroy Humanity in six days. Is there anything you can do to stop it?”   
“Again? Well, I don’t know. I guess I could fight them. I will bring my friends with just in case the Four Horsemen arrive. Where do you want to meet up?”   
“St James Park, if you will. Thank you for your help.”   
Aziraphale blew out a shaky breath and dialled the number for Madam Tracy. She picked up on the third ring.   
“This is Madam Tracy. If you would like an appointment for tarot card reading please specify Thursday or Friday. I don’t draw aside the veil anymore. Not since what happened the last time.”   
“Terribly sorry about that,” said Aziraphale.   
“It’s yoou! Shadwell! It’s the Southern Pansy.”   
He could hear Shadwell in the background muttering about how it was the witches that created the virus and how we were all going to see the effects of it very soon.   
“Right! I have to tell you both that there is going to be a big War happening in six days. Do be safe.”   
After the rantings from Sargent Shadwell, Aziraphale also notified Anathema and Newt who had been married for a year and had a lovely daughter named Eve. He was exhausted and stressed from all the phone calling. He decided to make himself a cup of tea. Crowley was on the couch with his head flat against the pillow and his body half on the couch and half off it.   
“Are you alright, dear?”   
“Mm. Fan-bloody-tastic.”   
“I’m sorry this all went down…”   
“Please don’t say like a lead balloon. It hurts you know.”   
“I’m sor-”   
“And don’t say you’re sorry, you know perfectly well how you hurt me, angel. I can’t handle it. Between this thing with you and the Last War, I’m past my fill of stress.”   
“I don’t want to make it harder on you. I really don’t.”   
“Why can’t you just say to me now? Huh? This world is gonna burn anyway. Tell me. Don’t make me beg.”   
Aziraphale set his tea mug down at his desk. “I don’t want to have this conversation. We shouldn’t be talking about it. We have a world to save.”   
“And we save it. The End. Then what? You’re gonna pretend like you don’t feel anything for me still?”   
“You know I care about you, Crowley.”   
“But? There is a but there. Look, I don’t want to hear it. Tell me the truth!”   
“You’re being ridiculous!”   
“No, you’re being ridiculous. Kissing me back and then telling me off.”   
“I…I…I…” His face turned and Crowley got up from the couch and walked to him.   
“See? You can’t say anything because you know that I know how you feel. You can’t deny it. Not anymore. You keep telling me off, angel, but I won’t have it any longer. Say it.”   
He strode up to him and Aziraphale took a step back. For each step Aziraphale took back, Crowley took one forward until he had Aziraphale right up against a bookcase. His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that spoke of things that neither of them had ever spoke of before. This. Flesh on flesh. 

“Just sssay it, angel.”   
He leaned in and Aziraphale forgot everything but he sheer closeness of Crowley. His nose grazed his cheekbone and slithered towards his neck. He bared his neck by instinct. He could hear every shuddering breath next to his ear and the power and heat coiled in his belly. The hair on the nape of his neck stood up as Crowley kissed the sensitive spot near his ear. Aziraphale couldn’t help the little moan that came out of his mouth at that. He was hot all over. Crowley kissed up and down making him incredibly dizzy. It was good. Too good. He could sense him all over. Every cell of his body was getting their fill. He closed his eyes and fought against the current. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.   
“Give in,” Crowley spoke huskily against his skin. “Come on, angel.”   
Aziraphale slumped down, his body going lax. He moaned as he felt Crowley’s teeth biting into him. He gripped Crowley by his waistcoat so that his body was flush against his. Every part of Crowley’s angles were on Aziraphale’s plush lines. The feel of his body was transformative and it excited him further as he felt the hardness of something in Crowley’s pants press against his thigh. Crowley was breathing heavily as he mouthed Aziraphale’s neck with fervour.   
“Aziraphale,” he groaned.   
The angel had discovered just what it felt like when he started rubbing their bodies together. It was a new feeling. It thrilled both of them and neither wanted to stop.   
“Crowley! I’m so sorry. Fuck, I wanted to tell you for so many years now. I want you. I want you. I want all you. You’re the kindest demon I ever met and you care for me. So well. So good, Crowley. You’re everything I need. I needed you since Eden and I can’t imagine my life without you. Don’t leave me Crowley. Not ever. Oh, God! I love you so much. Very much. I love you, dear boy. You understand? I love you!”   
Aziraphale had begun crying. Crowley couldn’t stop smiling and he wiped the angel’s tears away. He held his face in his hands and cradled it as he kissed him. He kissed him for the all years he couldn’t, he kissed him with every hidden part of him, all the corners and edges. And Aziraphale kissed him back. He met him with the same passion and the same frenzy. He yanked harshly at his red hair and bruised Crowley with his kisses. Finally.   
The dam burst.   
They kissed and kissed, until it slowed down. Their kisses became slower, unyielding with emotions. Their lips met tentatively and Aziraphale stroked his hands through his hair lovingly. Crowley held Aziraphale’s waist, locking him in. They kissed and Time didn’t seem to exist. This was what they had been waiting for. The angel stroked the demon’s face and they both laughed out loud at the craziness of it all. Why was it that it always took a War before they tried to admit how they felt? They would win this war whatever it took. They would be able to be together and live together.   
“Crowley, we aren’t going to speak about this until the War is over? I don’t want them to know about us. Heaven and Hell would use this against us if they knew we are in love. Not another word, okay?”   
“Okay, angel. I’m just glad I got this.” 

Sixth Day – The Last War 

There they stood. Aziraphale and Crowley at the front line. The Them standing around them. In St James Park there was a hoard of angels and demons ready to battle. Demons all dressed in dark colours, ugly and disfigured. Angels neat and clean in mostly white. Gabriel and Beelzebub were the leaders of the army. No one spoke for a long time and Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s tension in his limbs. There was more to lose now. They had their relationship at risk and the entire life they led here on Earth. This was worth fighting for, Aziraphale thought. It wasn’t about fighting what he hated, it was about saving what he loved. 

“We’re on our own side,” he said to Crowley who gave him a look in return.   
His chest warmed at that, the knowledge of what they were saying to each other, the unspokeness between them.   
Gabriel kept staring at Aziraphale and cocked his head at him. Adam stepped forward facing the army.   
“You don't have to do this you know.”   
Gabriel huffed. “You're the reason why we're doing this! This is your fault! I don't have to be here, but now we have to battle it out.”

“Why? Just to prove that you're better than humanity? Are you jealous because God chose us?” 

Beelzebub shook their head. “That'zz a sensitive topic with your father...” 

“As I said before, he's not my dad,” said Adam. 

Gabriel intervened saying, “Well you've made that pretty clear. Listen someone has to win. Crowley and Aziraphale didn't avert the Apocalypse, just delayed it. It will happen again.”

“How sure of you of that? You were certain it was going to happen the first happened.” Pepper scoffed a little defiantly. 

"Uh. It will because it just is. You can't actually change the past,” Gabriel answered. 

Adam said, “I created a New World. I say what is the past and present. And I think you should all go home.” 

"Yes. I agree,” Aziraphale interjected. “We don't need this. Leave humanity be. If all this will come to end at least give us another 6000 years.” 

“Too late for that, sunshine. The clock is running out. Your sun will collapse on itself soon and that it is not my doing, but The Almighty.” Gabriel grinned, puffing up his chest like he was satisfied with the events that would come about. 

Crowley shouted, “But not now. Which is saying it in a nice way because I can really say something else, just leave us until the sun kills us all.”

“You really are with them, aren't you? You're basically all human now,” Beelzebub sighed. “Let'zz go. I have more zickness and torment to dizpenze.”

Gabriel clapped his hands. “I should be going too. Guess we won't see each other again, Aziraphale. I'm extremely happy about that.” 

Aziraphale faked a smile. “Likewise.”   
They disappeared in a cloud of smoke and Crowley looked around to check if anything strange happened.   
“Well....that was a thing. Can we finally leave the garden now? The big one is over. Come on, angel. Let's get some cake.” 

The South Downs – Aziraphale and Crowley’s cottage 

Aziraphale tucked his legs beneath his body and nuzzled closer to the warmth of Crowley's body. Crowley laid next to him curled up on a light grey couch in their own home. He was wrapped in a soft tartan blanket and the demon wrapped an arm around the angel. Here they were. Safe, happy and in love. Everything worked out and Aziraphale often thought of the Garden in Eden. He thought of how it all started with the first rain and the first time he saw Crowley's face. 

“Angel?”   
“Yes, my dear.”   
“Could you say it again? Please.” 

“Anytime you need it.”   
He stared into Crowley's eyes and cradled his face in his hands. He kissed him softly.   
“I love you.”   
Crowley smiled widely. “And I love you, angel.” 

They kissed some more before Aziraphale went back to reading. He never thought it would happen, he never thought he could be in Crowley's arms. This was always meant to happen. In the cottage where two beings spend the rest of the lives. 

And this time he could tell Crowley exactly how he felt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! :)


End file.
